THE GREATEST SUMMONER WITH THE WEAKEST CREST
Chapter 0: The Day the Sky Cried
A small, creaky wooden house stood at the edge of a bustling town. Inside it lived a boy—thin, worn out, with calloused hands and eyes that carried the weight of a hundred sleepless nights.
Every day, he worked under the blazing sun doing labor no one else wanted. Not for ambition. Not for dreams. Just enough to earn a few coins to survive... and to feed his only family—his beloved pet dog.
That evening, with his shoulders heavy and footsteps dragging, the boy returned home.
The door creaked open.
"Hey, I'm home..." he called softly, expecting the usual pitter-patter of paws to greet him.
Silence.
His eyes fell on the motionless body lying in the center of the room.
"...Huh?"
His world froze.
The dog... wasn't moving.
He rushed forward, knees scraping against the wooden floor, hands trembling as they reached out.
Blood.
Cold. Lifeless.
"No... no, no, no...!" he screamed, holding the small body close. "Wake up! Please...!"
But there was no heartbeat to hear.
No warmth to feel.
Only silence—and the sound of his heart shattering.
The next day, he didn't work.
Nor the day after.
Nor the one after that.
He didn't eat. Didn't sleep. The world around him blurred as grief devoured him from the inside.
And on the third night... under a moonless sky... his frail body finally gave up.
He collapsed to the ground, alone in the darkness, and breathed his last breath.
But—
"Ugh... what is this softness?"
The boy slowly opened his eyes.
No pain. No hunger. Just... light. Gentle wind brushed his cheeks as soft clouds surrounded him.
He sat up, confused, blinking at the endless white sky above.
"Am I... dead?"
He looked around.
Nothing but clouds as far as the eye could see.
Then he stood, his voice shaking.
"Did I... come to heaven?"
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